


Stand Out But Don't Draw Attention

by MadamRoyale



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamRoyale/pseuds/MadamRoyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in high school, Conor's girlfriend becomes pregnant and the two are forced to give the baby up for adoption. He never quite deals with everything until Ryan Lochte comes around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand Out But Don't Draw Attention

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a long time coming. Conor is a great enigma to me. He's Lil Reezy and Alligator Fuckhouse, but who is he underneath it all? I wanted to shine a light on him. I hope you all enjoy. Comments appreciated and loved.

Patrick and Jeanne Dwyer worked hard to instill universal values into each of their five children. When a street was crossed, it was urged to look both ways. Words like “please” and “thank you” were staples in early vocabularies. As their children would grow, they would look back and realize these rules became foundations of their polite personalities. That wasn’t a bad thing. The world could use more cordial people. But there were other, less visible lessons Patrick and Jeanne taught. These, too, would become ingrained into their kids. Except for Conor. 

Conor was always the exception.

Conor Dwyer was born into, as his father liked to put it, a _comfortable_ life. It always struck him as amusing that rich people, because let’s face it that’s exactly what he was, used various adjectives to describe their financial situation. His father preferred comfortable, his aunt was fond of saying “stable”. He once heard a neighbor use the vulgar “well-off”. This was a one-time event caused by the consumption of too many Tom Collins cocktails. Conor’s father came from wealth but his mother didn’t. She wasn’t a pauper just middle class. Middle class was also on the list of terms people rarely used in his area. It was as if you said those words, you would magically own a ranch house and have to send your children to public school. It was due to her upbringing that she made her children aware that not every family was as lucky as they were. Like the good housewife she was, Jeanne volunteered at respectable charities. One didn’t associate with an organization like Planned Parenthood or, heaven forbid, a half-way house that catered to recovering heroin addicts. After school programs for underprivileged children and non-profits that provided interview clothing to single mothers, those were the preferred choice. 

Jeanne was a collegiate swimmer, a good one too. She taught swim classes to those underprivileged, again with the fancy labels, just say it, poor children at a YMCA in Chicago. Conor and his brothers would take those classes too. After the lesson, the kids would play pool games together. As they drove back to their comfortable life, Jeanne would always remark how grateful they should be. Conor never understood. His swim lesson friends all seemed happy and no different than himself. Should they be upset? Also, if his parents were really so concerned with the welfare of the underprivileged, why did they live in such a big house? It seemed rather, hypocritical. 

Conor began to learn that with great privilege come the massive lies to justify said privilege. However, there were no superheroes around him. Only bankers and doctors. There was also this undercurrent of conformity. Everyone was keeping up with the Joneses not only in material gains but personal accomplishments. This meant every child in Winnetka was to stand out but not drawn attention. You stood out through good grades and excelling at sports. You drew attention by wearing black clothing and asking too many questions. By the summer before sixth grade, Conor already felt himself growing weary of such a life. But didn’t know how to express such a disconnect with everything around him. And how could he? He was lucky, remember? He had a nice home and a loving family. He never had to worry about where his next meal was coming from or if he would have clothes to wear. So Conor threw himself into sports. He swam, played ice hockey, and basketball. He was getting taller and leaner. Girls started to pay attention. He paid attention back. He also found himself paying attention to Dustin Wallace from across the street. Dustin was 15 and was on two rugby teams – one for his high school and a local team. Dustin would occasionally invite Conor and his brother, Spencer, to the local games. After attending those games, Conor would have dreams about Dustin playing rugby naked. He would wake up confused and, on occasion, in need of new boxers. 

The summer before sixth grade was also when he first met Kaitlyn Pence.

Kaitlyn Pence moved to Winnetka from Connecticut after her father had accepted a new job with some random, major banking firm. She and Conor were similar in many ways - she was the oldest of four girls and her mother was also a homemaker with charitable ties. But Kaitlyn had something many girls in Conor’s grade didn’t have - a personality. Her family moved a few doors down and during a welcoming party, Conor met Kaitlyn. They spent the night sneaking sodas and giggling about the stuffy conversations around them. Kaitlyn made rude jokes that Conor loved but was a perfect dear when her mother introduced her around. 

For the next few years, Conor and Kaitlyn become sort of inseparable. They both were accepted to Loyola Academy, the preferred high school of the Catholic elite. During the first half of their freshman year, they had the same lunch period. The two relished in mocking their parents and their friends regarding the latest gossip. Kaitlyn shared Conor’s similar views on the ridiculous façade built around them. No one was truly themselves because that was the one question people were afraid to know. Who were they without their money? Their charitable contributions were all jokes. The only reason they did any of those things were to impress everyone with the idea of “gee, look how giving I am! Aren’t I amazing for helping these poor souls?” 

It came as no surprise when in the beginning of 10th grade; Conor finally gained enough courage to ask Kaitlyn to the Winter Ball on an official date. She agreed a little too quickly, blushed, and tried to play it cool but dropped all her books in the process. That was the official beginning of ConorandKaitlyn. Kaitlyn as a girlfriend was a lot like Kaitlyn as a friend, except they did things. Sexy things. Conor truly adored Kaitlyn but occasionally allowed his mind to wander. Dustin had long since went to college and took with him Conor’s naked dreams. But he was replaced by a guy folding sweaters at the Gap or a random water polo teammate. Sometimes when Conor was jerking off, he would imagine a man’s mouth sucking his cock or how it would feel being fucked hard. It was beginning to occur to Conor he may have an actual attraction to men and women. But, for now, he was happy with his fantasies. 

Conor lost his virginity a week after his sixteenth birthday. It wasn’t planned and just sort of happened. It was a Friday and they had a half day at school. Kaitlyn’s house was empty, a rare occurrence. They raided her fridge and flipped aimlessly through the TV channels. It was midday, so nothing but soap operas and random _Fraiser_ episodes. Kaitlyn turned off the television and started to kiss Conor. The makeout session began to intensify when Conor suggested they move to her room. The two had done a fair amount of things in the past, including Kaitlyn giving Conor his first blow job. It had been sloppy and awkward but Conor came hard. This time, things moved quickly. Both knew they were headed in one direction. Conor was ridiculously nervous and tried to ease himself into Kaitlyn without causing her too much pain. He had to stop several times so she could adjust to the new sensation. It was over soon after. Conor, always so polite, wet a washcloth with warm water and gently bathed the inside of Kaitlyn’s thighs to get rid of the blood smears. 

They had a lot of sex after that day. Conor never used a condom but Kaitlyn was on the pill, so it was okay. Besides, it wasn’t like he could pop into the grocery store where everyone knew his face and pick up a pack. But the pill was great, they were great, everything was great. 

A few weeks after school let out, Conor drove to Kaitlyn’s house. He just gotten his driver’s license and wanted to show off. The drive took exactly 30 seconds, far shorter than the lecture he endured from his father about seat belts and no cell phones. Conor was greeted at the door by Kaitlyn’s mother. Kaitlyn was feeling a bit “under the weather” as she put it and was resting in her room. Kaitlyn had been sick on and off for the past week or two. Conor thought she was overstressed from finals. He knocked on her bedroom door and heard some sniffling. As he pushed open the door, there was Kaitlyn trying to cover up the fact she had been crying. She looked at him; all confused and concerned, and just blurted it out.

“Conor, I’m pregnant.”

A few days later, Conor sat at the Pence’s large dining room table. Before Mrs. Pence married Mr. Pence, she had been an interior decorator. Well, the assistant to one. Mr. Pence always loved to regale how they first met. He was working in New York City, his first big job, and was living with his parents to save some money. His mother, on a whim, decided to re-do their den. After a particularly long day, he walked into the house only to discover his mother surrounded by hundreds of fabric samples, cooing over them. An older gentleman, dressed in the latest fashion, sat beside her, making suggestions and quoting prices. Mr. Pence’s eye was caught by his young assistant. Her red hair was tucked behind her ears as she carefully handed his mother the giant sample books. She jotted down measurements and noted instructions thrown toward her direction. His mother noticed Mr. Pence standing there and introduced him to the decorator and his assistant, Mary-Jane. He would always end the story the same way “my mother got her den and I got a wife.” Everyone would laugh. The first time Conor ever heard that story was at the same dining room table. He’d heard it so many times throughout the years, he used to mimic Mr. Pence’s ending, complete with gestures. Now he would kind of give anything to hear it. Like right now. 

Conor and Kaitlyn decide to come clean. They sit side by side, both looking downward. The four adults are speaking around them. They had told their respective parents separately. Jeanne began to cry, Patrick just started to yell. Conor’s behavior was stupid, reckless, selfish, and several other adjectives not worth repeating. Mr. and Mrs. Pence had the same reaction. So here they were because a plan needs to be formatted. They’re too young to get married and everyone would know the reason why in a heartbeat. And Kaitlyn was too much of a good Catholic for any other, ahem, options. Conor and Kaitlyn can both sense it coming, but who would say it first? Mary-Jane, bless her heart. She’s the first to utter the name of that place. Crescent Farm. It’s not a farm or a pastry. It’s a place that caters to those teenagers who draw attention. Kids who already can’t handle their liquor or drugs and girls in Kaitlyn’s condition. Everyone knows about Crescent Farm but no one talks about it. Why would you? It’s not something for polite conversation. 

Kaitlyn had been recently accepted to spend a semester studying in Paris. _Comfortable_ high schools can offer their students such luxuries. That was the truth. The real truth was Paris would now be Crescent Farm. They would find a good family to adopt the baby. Once this entire ordeal was over, both Conor and Kaitlyn could go back to their normal lives. The plan was blessed by the school’s administration, which went along with stretching the time period to a full year. These were the last years before social media, so no one would be the wiser. 

The night before Kaitlyn left, Conor snuck out to say goodbye to her. Well, that’s half true. His mother had loudly announced that she and her husband would be retiring early that night. Conor knew why and loved his mother a little more. Kaitlyn cried and so did Conor. They kept apologizing to each other like it was anyone’s fault. Kaitlyn suggested they run away. Conor laughed. With their luck, they’d make it only a few miles before being pulled over. 

Conor doesn’t see Kaitlyn until Christmas. He begs his parents until they relent. He and Kaitlyn have been keeping in contact through e-mail. Conor feels awful that her life has changed so dramatically while his hasn’t. He’s been pouring himself into his school work and swimming. His coach tells him if he keeps swimming the way he has, he’ll have a shot at full ride. For the first time in awhile, his father is genuinely pleased with him. He thinks his recent accomplishments are the reason why they allow the visit. Kaitlyn is now all stomach. He can barely fit his long arms around her. She shows him around, although he’s not allowed in the dorms, very strict rules and all. What do they think will happen? Conor thinks. He’ll knock her up again? Conor gives Kaitlyn a Christmas gift, a biography about Madame de Pompadour, a mistress of King Louis XV. Kaitlyn is a sucker for French history. 

Before he leaves, she tells him about this couple who are interested in adopting. They live in Chicago, he’s a professor and she owns a bakery. They’re in their 30’s, have a dog named Foster, and love the Cubs. Conor thinks they sound great but there is sadness in his voice. He places a hand over Kaitlyn’s belly and tries not to cry. Conor doesn’t make a sound on the ride home or for the rest of the weekend really. 

A few months later, Conor is awakened by his mother in the dead of night. Kaitlyn’s gone into labor. Even though he’s still a minor, Conor’s signature is still required. It’s about an hour’s drive and by the time they arrive, the sun is beginning to show through the clouds. It’s mid-February and winter still has a strangle hold throughout Illinois. Mr. Pence is in the waiting room while Mrs. Pence is acting as Kaitlyn’s coach. All that is left to do now is wait. An hour passes and a young couple greets Mr. Pence. Conor is introduced to Jake and Victoria Ebber. They are cordial and Victoria looks like she might want to hug Conor. She seems like that type of person. Conor isn’t bothered by that at all. As time progresses, Conor and the Ebbers begin to talk. Jake is on the tenured track at the University of Chicago for urban studies. Victoria’s bakery specializes in Italian cookies and pastries. They have been married for almost seven years and were unable to have children. Jake talks about their house having a nice backyard and Victoria seemingly can’t wait to share her baking knowledge. They are easy to speak with and Conor knows they are the right choice. Just after 11 AM, a nurse informs them the baby has arrived and is healthy. Oh, and it’s a boy. 

Everyone agrees Conor should go in first. Kaitlyn is holding what seems to be a bundle of blankets and wiping away tears. Mrs. Pence sees Conor and gives him a sympathetic hug and leaves the room. The blankets are actually a baby who Kaitlyn is passing him. She leans her head against a pillow and watches the two carefully. Conor has held a newborn before, two years ago when one of his cousins had a baby. He seems so small, little fingers, little face. This is the first and last time Conor will be holding him. It’s a fact not lost on Conor who tries to remain in control. He doesn’t want to cry because he knows it will set Kaitlyn off. She’s had it rough and Conor wants to try and lessen her pain. 

“I think he has your eyes.” she manages to say

He can’t speak. He knows if he tries, he’ll become hysterical. Conor kisses his son on the head and utters a barely audible “I love you, don’t forget that, okay?” before handing back the sleeping baby to Kaitlyn. His parents get some time with their first grandchild before the Ebbers greet their son for the first time. Conor signs what he needs to sign. His father pats him on the back, seemingly approving of how maturely he’s handling this whole situation and trying to offer him some kind of sympathy. Before he leaves, Victoria finally gives him that hug. The adoption is supposed to be closed but Victoria and Jake have agreed to send updates a few times a year to Kaitlyn. Victoria tells Conor she would like to include him and for the first time in this entire episode, Conor makes his own decision. He shakes his head yes and jots down his address on a piece of a paper Victoria produces. 

The adoption goes smoothly. The baby goes home with the Ebbers and a week later Kaitlyn comes back home. The Pences tell everyone Kaitlyn was homesick and decided to cut her trip short. She finishes her junior year at home with the help of a tutor. In the fall, Kaitlyn doesn’t return to Loyola Academy and decides to complete her senior year at a neighboring all-girls school. She’s accepted in Brown and graduates high school with full honors. Her and Conor never officially break up but Conor gets the picture after she never returned any of his phone calls after coming home. A year after they graduate from high school, the Pences move away. Conor was finishing his first year at the University of Iowa when it happened.

Just like she promised, Victoria sends updates about three times a year. She sends a letter detailing how Luke, that’s his name, not the name Conor would have chosen but at least it’s normal, has been doing. The letter is usually accompanied by a few photos. Luke seems like a happy baby who turns into a happy toddler. He’s always smiling. Victoria tries to send pictures of just Luke because she’s a good person who understands that maybe of group shot of the three of them would be like pouring salt on an open wound. One time though, she sends a picture of Jake holding Luke to place an ornament on a Christmas tree. Luke has that smile on his face which is matched by Jake’s. It causes Conor’s chest to literally hurt. The rational side of his brain knows it was the best decision. Conor and Kaitlyn are now free to pursue their educations. Victoria and Jake finally have the baby they always wanted. They seem to have created a loving home for Luke and that’s all Conor really cared about. But sometimes, he wishes he was the one hoisting Luke up and that smile was all for him. Conor places each letter and corresponding pictures in a shoe box under his bed at his parent’s house. He does keep one picture, usually from a recent update, with him at school. He hides it in his desk and every once and awhile catches himself looking at the chubby face in the picture.

Conor’s swimming career has taken off. He’s excelling at Iowa but there’s a hitch. He wants the Olympics and he knows he can get there. But Iowa isn’t known to produce Olympic swimmers. There are a handful of college teams that are known for doing just that. One of them is the University of Florida, which just so happens to be conducting a clinic for college swimmers the summer after his Sophomore year. He pulls his trump card and has his father place a very important phone call to Janet Evans, a former swimming great who is now a motivational speaker. His father has called on her services throughout the years and the two have established a good report. Janet has always liked Conor, so she contacts Greg Troy, head coach at UF, and somehow secures him a spot at the clinic. 

He swims like a demon; he knows what’s on the line. If he’s able to catch Coach Troy’s eye, he’ll be offered a place at UF. The week long clinic is grueling. Everyone is hungry and swimming of their best. Troy is joined by current members of the UF swim team and some of its alumni to judge the batch of swimmers. Conor can feel their eyes on him, critiquing his strokes. The experience is meant to separate the serious from those who can’t hack it. Conor is sharply focused until the third day of the clinic.  
After the morning practice and dry land exercises, Coach Troy gathers them all in conference room. In steps Ryan Lochte and a gasp goes through the room. Everyone knows Lochte. He’s probably one of the most famous and decorated Gators, up there with Dara Torres. Ryan is also having one of the best seasons of his professional life. He’s been regularly beating Michael Phelps and has established himself as one of the best swimmers in the world. Conor is taken back but probably not for the same reason as the other guys. Ryan is, well, beautiful. He has all of this long, curly brown hair and indigo eyes. The paleness of his eyes stands out even further against the backdrop of Ryan’s bronze skin. Conor isn’t sure if it’s love or lust at first sight. He can feel the heat in his face and knows his cheeks must be rose colored by now. Ryan is Jeff Spicoli’s heir apparent with his unrushed speech and did he just make up a word? What the hell does jeah mean anyway?

Ryan is talking about the swim program and all he learned. He talks about Gregg Troy a lot and how he made him the swimmer he is today. Its obvious Ryan doesn’t take himself too seriously but has a deep love for UF. He’s positive and congratulates everyone several times for making it to this level of competition. At the end of his little pep talk, Ryan casually lets it slide he’ll be observing that afternoon’s practice. Oh good, Conor thinks. Because Speedos are so great at hiding things.  
Afternoon practice goes well and Conor tries not to think about Ryan. He tries but fails. After the day is over, Conor leaves the locker room to head back to the dorms. He’s really starting to feel it and wants to turn in early. He leans against a wall to check his cell phone when he hears a voice. 

“Hey man, you’re one of the clinic swimmers, right?”

Conor looks up and those frosty blue eyes of Ryan Lochte are staring right back at him.

“Um, yeah.”

“Thought so. 200 IM, lane five?”  
 _Holy Shit_ Conor thinks. He panics and reminds himself that he possesses the amazing ability to breathe and talk at the same time.  
“Yup, good ol’ lane five.”

_Good ol’ lane five? What the fuck is that?_

“Nice form. You really extended yourself when you hit the wall. I was impressed. What’s your name?”

_Oh fuck. Did he just complement me? My name, dammit! This should be easy._

“Conor Dwyer. I’m out of the University of Iowa.”

“Keep it up, Conor Dwyer. See you around.”

Ryan gives a small, dare say, seductive smile to Conor. It takes him a solid three minutes to trust himself to walk again.  
Conor finishes the rest of the clinic. He’s back home in Winnetka for a week before receiving a call from Gregg Troy himself. He wants to make Conor as Gator. Gainesville, here he comes.


End file.
